"Did you ever see, Aunt Esther," inquired Gabrielle, "the poem that was addressed to Ida while she was at Ventnor?"
Mamma had not before heard of it; therefore, upon our return, Ida took it out of her portfolio, and showed it to us. It was written by a New York editor and poet, and was, we all thought, very beautiful and appropriate. As it was in MSS., Ida allowed me to copy it into my journal.
A FAMILIAR IDYL.
FOR IDA LILLIAN GREELEY.
Dear friend! If I could step to-day
Upon your cosey English isle,
Victoria's chosen home erewhile,
And hallowed by the Laureate's lay;
Though beauty breaks from every view,
And one long splendor edge the shore,
I should not pause an hour before
I touched the terrace graced by you.
For what's a Queen's or Poet's worth?
The light that lies on land and sea
Resplendent? Dearer far to me
The friendship which outweighs the earth.
Should I not find you--happy chance--
Just where your ivied cottage stands,
Dreaming with hope of western lands,
Or facing torn and tortured France?
And you could tell of sunny days?
Of chalky cliffs and spreading downs;
Nature is more than bustling towns,
And country life than city ways.
But hearing now a robin sing,
I wonder if his English mate
May not be hopping near your gate,
A harbinger, with ours, of Spring.
I know the precious charge you hold;
But now, when comes the budding year,
I wish the rather you were here
To see our leafy months unfold.